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Introducing the WRYTA'SBLOK Project:

Introducing the WRYTA'SBLOK Project:

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  Introducing the   WRYTA'SBLOK   Project: "In the beginning...." What you've stumbled across here.... is  an exploration of thought, emotion, and the difficulty of expression. A difficulty arising not necessarily from a lack of words, but from our tendency towards self-censorship, whatever the reason thereof (shyness, machismo, ....shame). ln most things,  I find that the speed with which one expresses their feelings can be, at once, disinhibiting and anxiety-inducing.  Disinhibiting because feelings left too long unexpressed can morph, and can easily lose the intensity, vulnerability, and authentically raw honesty which make any form of expression worth the effort. However, the danger inherent in " feelocity " is that " expressing oneself at the speed of emotion " leaves them exposed to all the dangers of radically transparent speech (criticism, judgment, the possibility of hurting other people's feelings, ....). It's challenging to find ...
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  A THING OF BEAUTY CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE FROTH ON UR DAUGHTER’S LIPS FLAVORING HER THANK YOU KISS LIGHT IN HER EYES HUGS IN HER VOICE HER HAND IN YOURS YOU ARE HAPPY LIFE IS A THING OF BEAUTY   SCENT OF PASSION FRUIT SHAMPOO ON UR WOMAN’S HAIR FRUIT FLAVORED LOVEMAKING PERFUMED LETTERS CANDY VALENTINES NAUGHTY LINGERIE YOU ARE HAPPY LIFE IS A THING OF BEAUTY   SIMPLEST JOYS OF FAMILY LIGHTENING YOUR LAUGHING HEART FILLING THE GAPS IN YOUR BEING A COMFORTABLE PLACE UR CLOTHES LAID OUT HOME-COOKED DINNERS YOU ARE HAPPY LIFE IS A THING OF BEAUTY
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 Days Days when we were fire Days when we were frozen flakes Hot blood to the heart days Days when veins were clogged with ice I only fear not knowing what kind today will be. 'gain . … Her affection was lightning striking the volcano Lava chasing after the flood Said she liked how “I loved her quiet, while she loved back like a raging storm” How we made beauty and chaos feel like the norm She roped tornadoes with her bed linen Whispered hurricanes into her pillows Every night she drank rivers and lakes To replace the waterfalls she shed the day before Evenings, I lit one, hit one, Bit one, fit one more in Just one more 'gain…
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  …looking like we’ve got it all But hearts still out here yearning Our silences speak volumes As do the dead, empty letters we never dared to send Your words. The quietest thunder. Your smile. The darkest lightning. Sleeping in the same bed  Dreaming different dreams Living the very life we chose, So why it still chafe Like brand new shoes?  
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    Resilience . Survived the thud of well-shod feet, Blazing heat of summer sun, No retreat, against all odds Still, she rose and grew in concrete.
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   MUTED SOULS OF INNOCENTS EXPOSED TO DISEASES IN LIFE TARNISHED BY LONGINGS AND THE HARROWING STRIFE SPIT SEEDS THAT FALL ON STERILE EARTH SPROUT FLOWERS THAT END UP BURNED IN THE HEARTH ORATORS, SINGERS, ACTORS, EMBODYING THE FIGHT ALL REVEALED IN THE WORDS OF THE POET RELISHING THE REVELRY THAT MUSIC ENTAILS THEY COME IN DROVES TO LISTEN TO HIS TALES HE WRITES TO CREATE AND TO CALM THEIR AILS HE WRITES TO FRIGHTEN THE STURDIEST OF HEARTS TO STRENGTHEN THE FRAILEST OF PARTS HE WRITES TO FULFILL THE LONGING INSIDE THE VOID THAT APPEARED WHEN HIS DEAREST DIED HE WRITES IN SHOUTS AND WHISPERS RECITES AT MORNING PRAYERS AND AT VESPERS POISON PEN INSPIRED BY BITING VIPERS IMBIBING THE FOOD OF KINGS, TEACHERS AND JESTERS WITH TOXIC THOUGHTS IN NON-TOXIC INK BALL POINT LOGIC URGING IGNORANCE TO: THINK! ENCOURAGING THE DOWNTRODDEN TO CARRY ON VICTORY CAN NOT ELUDE YOU FOR LONG VOICE TO SOLDIER, STUDENT, PROPHET AND KING SILENT WHEN IT COMES TO WHAT LIES DEEP WITHIN AND NO ONE WONDE...
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  TO KNOW, TO NAME   TO KNOW YOU IS TO SEE WHAT OTHERS FAIL TO SEE THE TRUTH ABOUT THE “MAN” WITHIN TO LOVE YOU IS TO KNOW YOU WELL FEEL YOU ENOUGH TO GIVE YOU A NAME FOR IF THE WORDS WE SPEAK CREATE OUR LIVES THE NAMES WE SPEAK CREATE OUR FRIENDS   I NAME YOU SPECIAL...
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  Excerpt from " A Beautiful Amnesia"  : ... The day is all but gone, there’s a beautiful Orange glow to the dusk Just as there is to the dawn Just before the beautiful, blue sadness that harbingers the morning Which will surely come in turn All our worlds turn, our memories Our forests burn Try as I may, I cannot remember you Even as Evening forgets day Night forgets evening Morning forgets darkness High noon forgets twilight   We forget both day and night You forget you called me a coward I’ll forget you were always right I will not try, I will not fight I will only lose So today, I’ll only choose Amnesia.
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     My Favorite Memory of You: I remember you as a little girl Ecstatic at the sight of birds Laughing. Screaming "Bird!...  BERD! BERD! Because you were still young enough to remember what it felt like to have wings.
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